


No. 1 Party Anthem

by CapitanAlpaca



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: But you're also bros, F/M, I'm not gonna even pretend I don't have the hots for Poe Dameron, Poe and Finn are my BrOTP, Porn With Plot, Reader doesn't know anything about the ship parts, Reader-Insert, Rey is such a cutie, Smut, That's not fair, but that Poe definitely helped her cheat through flight school, like come on, oh god I loved everyone, probably spoilers in later chapters, she just knows how to fly the ship and she damn good, yall are fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapitanAlpaca/pseuds/CapitanAlpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seriously, you knew how to fly, why did it matter if you knew what every part was called? Now, you were stuck with that no-good pilot but, hey, you weren't exactly a saint yourself. </p><p>[poe dameron/reader]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. so you're on the prowl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah, I was completely serious about writing this Poe Dameron/Reader. You can't stop me. I'm going to hell and I'm taking you all with me. Santa can't log this for next year, I'm immune. Let's do this! I watched the movie like thirteen hours ago, I'm ready to go. Buckle up, ladies and gents, we're going to planet Sin.

"You know I _really_ don't think that's how you fix a landing gear?" A stray voice reached your ears as you pounded away at the landing gear release with a wrench. Your face was streaked with grease and you were sure your clothing were no better. Out of force of habit and purely defensively, you told them to kindly fuck off and mind their own business. "Is that anyway to talk to the Best Pilot in the Resistance?" And suddenly every hair on your body stood at once. Ah, your _favorite_ person in the galaxy.

You craned your body to get a better look at the offensive figure below your ladder. His bemused smirk caused your face to scrunch up in annoyance. "Go away, Dameron."

"No love? Not even after we escaped impending annihilation?"

"Not even after escaping impending annihilation," you answered, returning to rhythmically banging away at the landing gear with a wrench. Your hand were outstretched above you and just enough that your shirt rode up just enough for—

"I think you need to reach higher."

"Go away, Dameron."

He sauntered, and yes, he sauntered, until he was directly below you, gripping the ladder, "C'mon, get a drink with me. We deserve it."

"No one is gonna fix my ship unless I do it myself."

He taped the ladder to a beat, "There's mechanics for this stuff."

"This _stuff_ is not going to get done the way I want it to so, I'm doing it myself. Go drink by yourself, Dameron," you said. Of course, he was persistent as any one would be when they were looking for a quick lay. Not that you didn't mind the "legendary Dameron dicking", you just put your X-Wing fighter above his genitalia. He slid his hands up your pants and if your ship's landing gear hadn't been completely destroyed, you have jumped down and been ravished by the man. His hands played on your thighs like he was playing piano. You steeled your resistance and ignored the heat on your cheeks. 

You swung the wrench below you, half-heartedly aiming for the pilot. He dodged expertly and chuckled in a pouting way, "C'mon, I can't drink by myself."

"That's a shame. And also not my problem."

He hands stalled and slid back down to your knees, you locked them on contact. Knowing Poe, he'd probably try and fling you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming so he wouldn't have to drink alone. 

And, he has before.

Poe looked up at you and you made the mistake of looking down at his big brown eyes, full of lustful promise. Heaving a sigh, it was like giving into a child. Except that child wasn't a child it was Poe Dameron and Poe Dameron wanted to get you drunk and fuck you against a wall. 

And, he has before.

You shook him off your legs. "Okay, okay, stop looking at me, though. Let me get changed."

He flung an arm around your shoulders and led you off, wrench still in hand, "I like you covered in grease and sweat. Plus, we'll just shower together afterwards anyways."

You rolled your eyes, "Real smooth, Dameron."

"Thank you, I do pride myself on my ever-abundant charisma."

\--

You and Poe were no strangers and you were definitely more than just friends. The fooling around started in the Flight Academy and it was partially due to the fact that you hated studying and Poe really did know everything about every ship and you were using that to your own advantage. You just flew the ships. You were good at it, too. So what if you didn't exactly know _each and every single_ name of the parts? Wasn't your epic piloting enough? (Apparently not.) Dameron, notoriously known around the barracks for flirting with anything with a pulse, just so happened upon you on a testing week. You were desperate enough and he was feeling generous. 

After that, you'd been stuck with each other ever since. It kind of benefited both of you now—stressful days, lonely nights, and just plain boredom. (The fact that he wasn't too bad in the sheets helped, too.) 

You slurred as you pointed at him, "Just because I don't know what the fuck the button is called doesn't mean I don't know what it does, okay?"

"I really don't know how you got your wings."

"You know _exactly_ how!" You shouted, slammed your empty glass down. You were coherent, your mouth just had troubles forming words. So, when determination filled your eyes, Poe knew what it meant. He'd been chasing you around with glasses of alcohol all night to weasel that look out of you. (You'd been guilty of doing it to him a few nights before he left for Jakku to be absolutely fair.) 

"I'm afraid I must've forgotten," He smirked and leaned forward, dangerously close to your face. The bar was loud and the music was repetitive and you dismissed all the other patrons inside. 

Setting your hands on his thighs, you slid them forward and leaned in mere centimeters from his ear, "I guess I'll just have to remind you, _flyboy_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I think we all know what you both are doing next chapter. I would post it right away but it's 4:30 a.m. and If I don't profread this smut I know someone's dick is ending up in a pace it has no business being. 
> 
> Alright bye. I'm dead now.


	2. wondering whether she left already or not...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope this isn't absolute shit. I don't normally write smut this early in a story so I hope it isn't just bleh. But, whatever, go have fun ya crazy pervs.
> 
> Just letting y'all know that I'm starting my next semester of school on Wednesday so updates might be sketchy... I'm sorry. I will try my hardest, though!

As you drunkenly and ungracefully clambered up on your X-Wing fighter, a distinctly annoying voice from below was attempting to coax you down: "Hey, now, c'mon—don't-don't do that!"

You slurred your words and pointed in his general direction but, ultimately it was not at him, "Shut up, Dameron...I-I can do whatever, okay!" If anyone (and someone probably did) had witnessed the exchange currently happening on the airfield, it would resemble something extremely childish and immature. (Which would not be far from the truth.) You, however, were determined to make Poe eat his words and tell you he was wrong—that you passed flight school of your own skill and talent. (Which would be slightly wrong considering how many times Poe had helped you cheat on oral and written tests in Flight School.)

"You're gonna kill yourself."

"No I'm not!"

His tanned face was flushed in the light of the airfield from the alcohol. Poe ran a hand across his features and sighed. This was definitely not how he pictured tonight to go—he pictured you and him in his quarters with far less clothing than you and he had on right now. It was going pretty much the way he planned in the beginning at the bar but, then you started defending your piloting abilities and he had to chase you to the airfield. You had somehow shimmied into a flight suit and helmet (slightly askew on your noggin) and were now struggling to open the cockpit. "[Name], you're a great pilot, I'm sorry I doubted you. Come off the ship."

You shook your head and shakily climbed to your feet, hands on your hips, swaying a little making Poe nervous. Instead of listening to him, however, you remained adamant in your own defense, "I'm [Name]! They should've named _me_ the Best Pilot in the Resistance! Poe Dameron is a second rate pilot and I will prove it!"

He looked around at the mostly dark and vacant airstrip. "Who're you talking to?"

You narrowed your eyes and bent down to work the cockpit latch—struggling more like it. Poe stepped closer as you were inches from falling and eating shit on the pavement. "You just, you just wait! You'll be eating your words!"

"And the only thing you'll be eating is shit if you don't come down."

A surprised yelp escaped your lips when the cockpit unhitched and popped open and you pried it open to shimmy inside. But, first you needed to do your ritual before getting engine the controls. A sort of good luck routine you had due to your own silly superstitions. It would be a whole lot easier to execute if you had a sober bone in your body and when you sprung up to do the little dance-like ritual, you nearly slipped. Poe had almost sobered up immediately, the mistake setting him on high-alert. 

He donned a serious expression, one that you were drunkenly oblivious to as you continued on. The part where you touched your toes came and you wobbled over, swaying again. When Poe shuffled, you snorted out, "I'm fine, I'm not gonnaAHHH!" 

And there you were flailing your arms and landing ever so ungracefully on top of Poe Dameron in the least sexy way possible. He was groaning and you, as best you could, rolled off of his most likely bruised body. He winced as he clutched his groin. "Fuck, [Name], when I said I wanted you on my dick, this is not the way I was thinking."

Your helmet had flown off and collided with the ground, your hair a horrible mess. You pouted, ignoring the man writhing in pain, "I was going to fly!"

He sucked in air sharply through his teeth, gathering his wits before calmly (as calm as a person who'd just gotten hit in the balls could) grit, "Like hell, you were. C'mon, we're going to bed..." He shifted to his feet, adjusting his family jewels once more before out stretching the hand. You almost took it but pulled back in mild disgust. 

"Gross, I don't want your cooties on my flight suit. It might curse it!" You clambered onto all fours before propping yourself upright and catching his jacket for support. Poe rolled his eyes at you and slung your arm around his shoulders. "Hey! I can walk fine!"

"Not a chance, not after that little stunt you just tried to pull off."

Your pout increased, "Ugh! I'm so not having sex with you, Dameron."

He scoffed, "I'd actually think it'd be best if you weren't anywhere near my penis until I can recover from your knee."

You snorted out a laugh and lolled your head and began blubbering in a drunken stupor about how you would _kick his ass if you were a Jedi or a Sith or whoever it was that had the sweet ass lightning_. 

\--

Poe had known you since your days in Flight School and you had always been one of those lazy-slide-by-the-skin-of-your-ass types—sleeping more than studying—and he had seen you in more bars than most female cadets. So, it wasn't a surprise that your recovery time after a night out was much quicker than the average person. (He'd once quipped that you were an alcoholic and it earned him blue balls for a whole month much to his own dismay. Poe never mentioned it again. When you'd finally had a shit day from a bullshit mission you'd returned from, you'd scolded him about alcoholism being a serious disease and you were not afflicted before ripping off his shirt and having your way.) 

He'd nearly missed you cursing as you rubbed your forehead and checked the time because unlike you, he was suffering. He moved his head under the blankets to shield his eyes from the light you'd flicked on. He mumbled unintelligibly and you nudged his back in response saying, "This is your fault." He pulled the covers all the way over his head before attempting to push you off the bed with his foot. You smacked his thigh, "I'm leaving in a minute. Calm down, ass."

He grumbled out, "Turn the light off."

You leaned over and flipped the beside lamp and sighed, "Why am I in a flight suit?" You may have not had as bad a headache as Poe but, you didn't remember jack shit from last night other than defending your honor. He peeked out from the covers like a the little child he was acting like and said something like, "...being dumb...almost ate shit...then passed out...m'bed." 

Rubbing your temples soothing the manageable pounding in your head, you groaned, "Ugh, I'm never going to take shots again." He snorted loudly before shuffling onto his side. You swore you heard him say, "Yeah right." Taking the high road, you ignored him. Slowly getting to your feet, hoping the room would steady itself, you went to the wall for support. As much as you'd _love_ to sleep in, you were still responsible for fixing your X-wing. 

But, first a shower sounded great. You reeked of alcohol and brake fluid.

By someone's good grace, you had made it to his shower without tripping and cracking your head open. It wasn't like you'd never borrow a pair of pants or shirt from his dresser before and vice versa (There was one instance in which Poe had to sneak back to his barracks in a pair of your spanks during one of your raunchier trysts back in the academy.) so, you gladly showered away any remnants of yesterday. After the best hot shower (You swore he was getting better treatment than most of your pilots.) you'd ever taken, you dressed in his clothes, a little baggy but nevertheless clean. They were a bit baggy and you'd had to ditch you underwear which proved to be a tad uncomfortable in his starchy pants. Poe hadn't moved from his spot on the bed probably still asleep as you collected your shoes. (He had probably taken them off your feet before you had stumbled onto his mattress. What a pal.) 

The base was already bustling as it was well into the afternoon as you exited his room. You made it a note to yourself to eat something before you even thought about starting your day but, life was not so kind. You were so close to the Mess Hall that you weren't as careful of your surroundings as you should have been and your shoulders bumped into someone else's. A curt sorry spilled out of your lips before, the other spoke, "[Name]? I've been looking for you all morning."

You noticed it was simply Snap Wexley, captain of the Blue Squadron. What he possible need you for, you could only imagine it would conflict with your prior engagement. Having a lower standing than he, you stayed to hear him out, plus, he looked a little frazzled. That was never a good sign for any officer. He ran a hand through his dark hair before scratching his stubble, "I needed to ask if you would assist the recon team. We're a little short-handed recently and I hear you've been grounded for a while."

It was true, you'd had zero air time ever since Poe returned from his stupid mission. He was stealing all the good ones and then, the whole landing gear problem... 

"Uh-huh, the landing gear on my—"

"I'll get one of my guys to fix it."

"I'd rather—"

"I need to brief you on the mission anyways. You won't have time to do it yourself. We leave in half a day's time, no later. I was just about to brief everyone else, if you'll follow me."

Groaning inwardly, your stomach growled. He ignored you and you knew Wexley was stubborn, not willing to take no as an answer. Evident as he walked on and you knew that meant you had to follow. You shuffled along, leaving the food you desired far behind you. At least, your showered.

\--

"You look like you could use this more than me," your head snapped up and your eyes met with a metal tray of various food. Your stomach lurched at the sight and smell of whatever it was—you were about to vomit; you were starving. Your hands greedily snatched the tray out of your friend's hands and began scarfing down the food. He chuckled but his grin faded as he sat down and rubbed his head. "My head is killing me..."

"That's because you can't drink for shit," you retorted except it sounded a garbled mess through your mouthful of food. He let you scarf down the food as he leaned his head on the table you had been sulking at prior. The only sounds between the two of you were his occasionally groans of pain and your occasional smacking. 

When the savagery of your eating had ending with a sip of water, he put his head in his hand. You smiled dopey, full and happy. He had a small frown on his face as he met your opposite gaze. "I heard Wexley is forcing you on recon."

You rolled your eyes, having been reminded of the bullshit. Sneering at the thought, "Recon's the worst."

"It's important."

"Yeah, then, you get to do all the fun stuff. Like, you got to visit Jakku and probably see all the sweet ships that crashed—" You were quite the fan of any and all starships as you'd grown up on Coreilla, a planet known for starships.

"I saw a lot of dirt."

"Yeah—"

"It looks I'm going to see a bit more. General Organa is sending me to find someone. Looks like we'll both be flying—speaking of which, what about your landing—"

"Wexley is sending someone. Who are you looking for?"

He sighed, looking positively pathetic, "Can't say. Top secret. You don't have high enough clearance. If I told you, I'd have to kill you." 

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes but, didn't push any further. Switching the topic, you said, "Take care of BB-8, I love that droid more than you."

He scoffed. 

"BB-8 doesn't make fun of my pre-flight ritual like you do."

He rolled his neck and stretched out, "I just think it looks ridiculous."

You grumbled in disagreement. He laced his fingers under his chin, smirking ever so devilishly at you. "Speaking of pre-flight rituals..."

You rolled your eyes, "I'll swing by your room before I leave—"

"No can do, you see I'm supposed to be in a ship in a few hours aaaaand..." He let his sentence linger and you rolled your eyes. He was not as smooth as the rumors implied or it could be that he was not even trying when he came to you. You were not subtle sometimes but, at least you never sounded like a horny schoolboy. Pushing out of your chair, you began to retreat from the table. When he stood, you told him to follow over your shoulder. He didn't even hide his excitement as he trailed you back to his room. 

\--

It was amazing how quickly Poe had pinned you onto his bed after he'd shut the door behind himself. You pried your shoes off with your feet and went to work on ridding him of his shirt. Between fervent kisses, you managed, "I'm going to have to shower again..."

His lips silenced you from making any other snarky remark. You could tease and mock him about piloting but, damn the man could _fucking_ kiss. Hell, he could do a lot of other amazing lips but, you'd never admit that out loud in fears of letting it get to the man's head. With pride like his, coupled with any compliments, he'd think he could get with Han Solo if he tried. (Actually, there had been that one time when—)

 

"Fuck!" 

His hand was down the front of your (technically, his) pants and a smirk spread on his lips as he pulled away from you. He was about to comment on it but, you grumbled out, breathlessly, "Don't say anything."

Caressing your folds, his fingers slipped between them and brushed all the right places. Your hands gripped his shoulders. You hadn't gotten his shirt off all the way and you were falling behind in this unspoken race. Collecting your wits, a hand flew down to his buried in your trousers, halting his actions. He met your gaze and you went for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it the rest of the way off of his torso and you couldn't help but relish in the way his hair ruffled at the action. He slid your own (well, his) shirt up off of you. 

"Did you just raid my closet this morning?" He snickered and went for your bra. You rolled your eyes. 

Inching up onto the bed, you simultaneously wiggled out of your pants, leaving them under him. He crawled up to meet you, kicking off his shoes.

"You're awfully slow today, considering you've got to be on your way to Jakku in two hours," you quipped, fully nude underneath his far too dressed body. Your hands roamed his chest and halted at the top of his pants. 

"Logging everything for the flight, [Name]."

"It's not like you won't see me immediately after you come back, idiot," you nipped at his bottom lip, urging for him to hurry. He knew that you were a little impatient, you'd always been one for the fast, hot, and heavy kind of sex. When he wasn't meeting your pace, you would take the reins and speed up the pace yourself. He slid his hands back between your thighs and found your nub between his fingers, teasing it enough to have you gripping his shoulders once again. A little gasp escaped your lips and rubbed your feet into the blankets. When his hand left you, you fought the urge to pout because his mouth was on your moist core moments later earning a groan of pleasure from you. You smiled at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your opening. He was too good at that. 

Your hands found the dark curls on his head and the softness of his hair even gave you pleasure. He was walking sex and he have to really try. It was completely unfair, you thought. Poe's hands gripped your thighs, stilling your legs as they fidgeted at the pleasure he was supplying you. The warm muscle dipped into you and you moaned loudly, gripping a bit too tightly on his hair. 

He hissed and you felt the hot exhale he emitted afterwards. Poe was a tease by nature and didn't let you finish before coming up and letting you taste yourself on his lips when he caught your lips again. Your hands went to the front of his pants and pushed the hem down past his hips. Helping you rid him of the offensive article of clothing, you were eager to get him in your hands. 

He wasn't fully erect and this was something you had plenty of practice remedying as you'd stroked him. His lips found your neck and assaulted all the right spots. He groaned when you gently trailed a fingernail along his length. 

With every stroke you felt him hardening and that brought a lustful little smirk onto your kiss bitten lips. There was something truly gratifying in knowing that you had the Resistance's "best" pilot as putty in your hand with such a simple action. He grabbed your hand, stopping you. You hadn't even realized you were getting a little over zealous in your actions. You were far too caught up in your own thoughts. He took himself and positioned himself at your entrance as your hand went to the sheets beneath, expecting him inside you.

You were literally bracing for impact. An impact that never came as your eyes rolled into the back of your head instead. You but your bottom lip and shifted underneath him. He smirked, sweat beginning to head on his forehead from all the closeness. He'd never get tired of your writhing form under his own body. _The bastard was such a fucking tease!_

You felt him rub against you, creating a wonderfully terrible friction. His caresses were slow and he applied just enough pressure to have your toes curling. You were breathing unevenly as you moaned out, "Poe...Dame...ron, if you d-don't... _fuck_ me, I'll—"

"You'll what?" He interrupted, his breath tickled you, as he whispered near your ear. You would get back at him after he came back. _Bastard._

With every thrust, you gripped at the sheets tighter, knuckles white and you swore you would rip them if he kept this up. The feel on him sliding along your folds, so close to penetrating you but, never actually doing so, had your nerves frazzled. You wanted to melt into the sheets and he was going _sooo_ slow. "Please!" Your voice cracked, pathetically and he smirked again. 

He graciously ended your suffering when he entered you, filling you up nicely. He sheathed himself before pulling out out just as slow as he was moving from before. You weren't about to throw a fit, either, so you huffed again fighting the urge. You bucked your hips to try and get the pace going at something a little bit faster than reverse and he pulled out. You groaned in response. "Poe."

You never said his just first name unless you were being completely serious. He thrust back into you, setting a much more tolerable pace, one that wasn't so fucking slow. Pushing off of you, his hand went to your hips as he picked up the pace. His hips met your pelvis with a fervor you were going crazy over, hands roaming your own breasts to further your own pleasure. One of his hands replaced yours and you used that opportunity to grab his wrist and pull his hand to face. 

His mouth gaped when you slid his index finger into your mouth and sucked before releasing it with a small pop. It filled him with a little wave of nostalgia of your first encounter. Poe leaned back over you and went to work on your neck, biting and sucking the junction of your neck before licking the area. He smiled when he saw what would eventually show up as a faint hickey. At that moment you muttered out how he better not have left a mark. He snickered, slowing his thrusts to admire his art. Poe didn't linger to long as to not arise suspicion and sat back up on his calves to speed up. 

His thumb rubbed against your clit as he neared his climax and you were catching up quickly by the sound of your breathing. You jerked upwards and grabbed for the base of his neck pulling him back on top of you as you captured his lips in yours frantic and sloppy kisses that were mostly tongue and teeth were exchanged as you moaned onto his lips. Your hips spasmed as you tightened around his length, you'd just cursed as you came. He was still pumping into you fast and hard before he gripped the sheet next to you head tightly, he pulled out before he could release inside of you, spilling his seed onto you and the blankets. 

When you two finally caught your breath, you chuckled almost too amused, "Guess I'm stealing your clothes again, Dameron."

"You look better in my pants than I do anyways."

"You suck," you playfully punched him. He rolled over next to you. You slyly used his sheets to wiped away the aftermath of your coupling. You made a note to personally have his bedding washed as any good friend would have done. A silence filled the air and nothing but panting could be heard. He ran a hand through his locks. 

"Be careful, okay?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Worried? About a recon mission?"

"No, worried you'll get antsy and do something—"

"Jeez, have some faith in my ability. I should be the one telling you to be careful, Mister Secret Mission," you responded, offended that he was worrying.

"I'll be fine."

"You better be. I'd hate to have to have my next mission be a rescue one to save your sorry ass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up, Poe Dameron and the Wrath of the Reader. Tell me how I did on this chapter, I'm Self-conscious and require the constant approval of my audience (and let's face it, every author is a little bit of an attention whore tbh)
> 
> Until next time!!!!


	3. leather jacket, collar popped like antennae, never knowing when to stop...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, the reader gets drunk, nostalgic and a new mission.
> 
> (dedicated to **necrofancy** who wanted a lip bite)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OF ALL! I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG ABSENCE FROM THIS STORY; I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT, I SWEAR IT KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT. 
> 
> Secondly, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, left kudos, bookmarked and just read the story, it warms my heart that you all want to Poe Dameron to dick ya. ;D 
> 
> Thirdly, Reader doesn't get truly angry at Poe until next chapter. Im sorry. I know we were all hoping for wall sex but I swear just hold out and it'll come. Or should I say _you'll come_
> 
>  
> 
> ~~kill me I'm sorry~~

Contrary to popular belief around the base, you were not tore up that Poe hadn't returned to the base. There had already been more than a handful of a random assortment of Resistance members coming up to you to console your supposedly broken up self. It had been confusing at first because you were exhausted, having returned from an exceptionally long Recon mission but, now it was just plain annoying. For some reason, everyone that knew about your relationship with Poe assumed that you were emotionally distraught in his disappearance. To be quite honest, you'd never lived a more peaceful two days. 

That's not to say you weren't worried about his safety—you were worried about everyone's safety. However, the truth was that you barely knew much about Poe Dameron despite knowing him for so long. It's not as if you sat down with him and pestered him about his life story. Sure, you'd had pillow talk with the man but, it was an unspoken rule that you both had. (Does pillow talk count if it's: "Do you think if I killed you, I would get caught?" "Yeah, you couldn't be able to hide the truth." "Excuse me? I could totally get away with murder!" "Not in a million light years.") You didn't know his favorite color or his favorite song or what his hobbies were; you knew he liked to fly starships and have unannounced sex. What more did you need to know? He knew you came from Coreilla, and that you were somewhat of a drinker but, nothing more you guessed.

Knowing someone for so long, it was only natural you'd see the ticks one had but, other than that, you couldn't say that you were anything more than casual friends who slept together. (To the outside person, however, your connection with Dameron seemed deeper than you let on.) This concept was apparently foreign to the people on base as they continued to console you. You'd simply started ignoring it, hoping that the hype would die out when Poe showed up. Fate was cruel to you and when news of Poe's capture circulated around the base, the consoling only got worse and came in waves. Hell, you couldn't grab an extra plate of food without someone assuming you were stress eating. 

Poe was managing to ruin your daily life even without being in it—impressive yet, inconvenient.

You tried to do some flight training but, heaven forbid you be productive when you should be weeping over Poe's absence. They'd grounded you _until further notice_ due to your _emotionally compromised state of mind_ and you couldn't have been more pissed. (Ironically proving how _emotional_ you were.) If Poe wasn't dead already, you'd surely kill him when he showed up on base. 

So, with nothing left to do, you decided you'd make the most of your time stuck on the base. The bar near the base was no stranger to you and you easily made home on a bar stool. There wasn't anybody pestering you because at least they assumed you were drinking away your sorrows. (It was just your boredom.) The greenish liquid swirling in your glass brought back memories of the missing pilot and you smiled to yourself. It reminded you of when you'd first met the legendary charmer that was Poe Dameron.

You remember the fact that you were taking shots back to back trying to get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth that was left after you'd been informed that you'd taken the most recent of many failed tests. All your days in the academy were being wasted as you continued to fall behind in your classes. It was beginning to look grim for you and your future as a pilot. Even the instructor let out a sigh when he told you you'd failed again. It wasn't even a big deal! (Well, it shouldn't have been!) _"Cadet [Last Name], you should reconsider your future. I just don't think this is the path you should be on." "You just don't know the material." "You'll never be a pilot at this rate."_

Another shot glass slammed onto the bar counter and you loosened your uniform collar, running a hand through your hair. Your face was flushed but, you were otherwise functional despite the growing shot glass collection. Slumping back down onto your bar seat, you laid your head on the cold steel of the counter. You were stuck in a rut, there wasn't any way you could memorize the entirety of the ship's parts before tomorrow afternoon when you were redoing your evaluation. A few of your classmates told you it wasn't smart to get shitfaced before a test but, you didn't listen to them. They were passing! 

Your uncle—the man who'd sent you on this stupid path—would be rolling in his grave if he saw how sad you were looking. _"You wanna get outta this place so badly? Become a pilot, just like my idiot brother, yeah?"_ You were probably just another kid following in their parent's footsteps but, you didn't even want to be pilot—you just wanted off Coreilla. It was just happenstance that you were willing to do pretty much anything to get outta of there—joining the military seemed to fit the bill. Not your brightest idea since you'd grown up with your uncle and not your father. 

Your father who'd been a pilot and died before you really remembered him. Your uncle wasn't a man that should've been raising anyone—he was a drunk, catered to other drunks as a bar owner and hardly filled your head with stories of grandeur. He was blunt enough to tell you to get out of Coreilla and you never hated him for that. Coreilla wasn't a place for you so, here you were...trying and failing to be a starship pilot. 

You banged your head a little and cursed. Lifting your head, you rubbed the spot and asked for another round. The other bar patrons weren't bothering you, something you were grateful for, except for one. Unbeknownst to your sulking self, he'd been eyeing you for quite sometime. It was very impressive to see a woman put away shot after shot and not collapse into a silly drunken stupor right away. He slipped through the bar and eased himself coolly next to you. 

Your hand was tracing the rim of an empty glass and your head was resting on the counter watching the action. He spoke, loudly over the obnoxious music, "I take it you failed again?" At the cruel reminder of your own inabilities, you cringed and sat up but didn't speak. He turned more towards you and smirked, "It's kind of a joke around the academy, you know?"

"Thanks, I love being known as the resident loser."

With a smirk that would burn itself into your memories one day, he gave you his name. You returned the curtesy but, you doubted that you needed to if you were the apparent laughing stock. 

"I would offer you a drink but, I think you've had your fair share."

"Excuse me?" You narrowed your eyes. "Are you saying I can't have another?"

Poe's eyes flickered with the mischievousness you'd eventually grow accustomed to but for now were cautious to, "Seven is a lot, wouldn't you agree?"

"I grew up in a bar, Dameron."

"Oh, so you're not only brooding but, you have a troubled past? You're shaping up to be quite the dystopic heroine aren't you?"

"Bite me."

"Only if you ask nicely," he smirked. 

You'd not dare let him know the slight stutter your brain had when he shot you that look. Steeling yourself, you quickly changed the subject, "What do you want anyways?"

"I didn't want anything in particular but, I think I can actually help you, ya know?" He sounded far too confident in his impending monologue that you grew cautious. "I, Poe Dameron, am not anything but a helpful comrade to my fellow pilots and it has occurred to me—as well, as everyone else—that you are in desperate need of guidance. You're kind of... _a shitty pilot_ "

"Wow, what a way to capture a girl's heart."

"I guarantee it's not the worse of what the others are saying."

You knew it was true. It wasn't the fact that they were saying such negative comments; it was the lack of basis. You didn't know the little parts and mechanics of flying. It didn't come as a second nature for you to know every little detail of a ship! Flying wasn't hard. You knew how to fly a ship and you fucking brilliant! Your physical test scores were approaching record-breaking but, it didn't mean shit because you could properly describe what the _fuck_ a _hyperdrive_ was or what it did. 

_"This is basic information they should've ingrained into you the first week, cadet!"_

Fuck, if you hadn't heard that one a hundred times. 

"I'm proposing a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

The bartender had slid another glass in your direction and you were a little bitter he'd taken as long as he did. Poe narrowed his eyes like he was sure of himself when he saw you downing the contents. 

"A mutually beneficial deal, I promise." Your heart stuttered at the sight of perfectly white teeth dragging along his bottom lip, like he was already fucking you in his mind and you couldn't help but feel a pressure in your lower abdomen. You had to run you thighs together to even sate the feeling but, he—dammit, he knew—had you right where he needed you. Slightly drunk, desperate and unwittingly intrigued by his proposition. 

And you'd never known peace since that encounter. The moment you'd led him to your room had been your demise. He was like a puppy that wouldn't leave you alone. You were certain he was some virgin schoolboy who'd shadowed his first lay. How he managed to switch out your scores for passing ones you'd never known but, you were ninety-nine percent sure he was screwing your testing instructor. Whatever he'd done, you found yourself on graduation day with the rest of your peers, headed into the wonderful service of the Republic's starfleet. 

For a few years, you were free from Dameron's constant desire to be your best friend and in your pants all at the same time. When he'd rose to become the commander of the Rapier Squadron, you'd almost fell out of your chair because you were eating when someone told you. It was hard to believe it. You never bothered to watch him fly. It wasn't a hard concept to grasp—space academies were large and he was in a completely different squad than you, the serendipitous events that brought you two together never had you watching him flying. All you thought he could do was fuck someone's brains out. So, it came as quite a shock that he was some hotshot starfighter pilot. 

The following year when he defected, you didn't find out until you visited the base where he supposed to be stationed at with his squadron. A sad bunch they had been when their commander had defected to the Resistance and you felt a small twang of disappointment in the news as well. 

Fast forward to your current state and you were feeling a bit more nostalgia than you'd hoped. Tracing the edge of your glass with your thumbs you let out the smallest of sighs. Never would you openly admit it but, maybe you were a little upset that Poe was missing. Not because he was one of the Resistance's most trusted and gifted pilots and found himself in the hands of the First Order but, that he was someone to you. The alcohol must've been messing with your emotions because you swore you'd even felt your heart sink into your stomach at the thought of Poe getting hurt. Part of you was trying to brush it off and part of you was biting its nails, pacing like some housewife. You didn't miss him. You didn't miss him. 

_You didn't miss him._

•

You were on the wing of your ship, basking in the early morning sun, sunglasses **[1]** over your eyes. Being grounded was like having your wings clipped and it made you feel absolutely useless. You liked the calmness of space when you weren't trying to kill someone else and now you were forced to stare up at the sky like it was an unrequited love of yours. The alcohol had already run its course through your system only leaving the mild headache and telltale scent behind.

The airstrip hadn't seen much commotion yet, the base didn't fully awake until around six o'clock anyways and you quite enjoyed the stillness of five. It an ethereal quality to it—a sort of silent reverie washed over you in the early hours when nothing but the sound of nature could be heard. There wasn't any ringing in your ears in these moments. It was serene. Dreamlike. You wished you stay in those moments forever. 

"[Last Name]?"

The smile grin on your face melted away at the sound of someone calling to you from below. You let them repeat themselves until you climbed over the edge and placed your lenses on top of your head. "Yes?"

The small Resistance member looked up at you with an expression of pity. It was probably just another person hoping to express their unwanted and unneeded condolences. Had you not the right mind to hear them out, you would have thrown your boots at their head. He spoke louder instead, giving you a sharp salute. "General Organa would like to see you."

You nearly toppled over the edge and onto the cement. You didn't quite hear him right. Did he say—

"G-General Organa?!"

"Yes, ma'am, it's urgent, she said to tell you that it couldn't wait."

"But..." You hadn't showered. You probably looked and smelled like absolute degeneracy and now you had to face the leader of the Resistance—a woman you could proudly say you had a small poster in your locker. (It wasn't an obsession, it was admiration and it was healthy for soldiers to look up to their leaders.) "I'll be down in a second."

Your palms were sweaty when you had seen her poring over a screen with a few of the other tacticians in the Resistance. She hadn't yet acknowledged your presence but when she did, you wanted to die. It was almost like meeting a celebrity. A Skywalker, a Princess, a complete badass and yet, she was smiling at you like you were her only hope. Cue fangirl moment. You steadied yourself from making a complete fool of yourself and snapped into a salute. She told you to be at ease and you struggled at that command. Her voice was calm and you swore you would trust her if she told you to jump off a cliff. 

"Captain [Last Name], you look like you've had a long night."

"I apologize for my appearance, ma'am. If I had known I—"

"Oh, don't apologize, we've all had long nights." She waved her hand and the member that had retrieved you came to her side with a tablet. She eyes it and scrolled through the information for a while before glancing back at you. You gulped. "You've been on the ground these past few days, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, I'm going to need you back as it seems you're the best one for a particular mission I desperately need to go smoothly."

Again you swallowed. The suspense was palpable and it was killing you (not to mention how your headache had all but worsened since you were growing nervous under the General's careful watch). 

She continued, handing you the tablet she'd been going through and you grabbed it almost too quickly. As if you were some desperate child grabbing a sweet treat from their mother and you eyed what you could only assume was your mission debrief. "This mission is of paramount importance and from the my most trusted source, you're an excellent person for the job. I've seen your mission reports—very impressive."

"Th-thank you, General Organa. I...may I ask who recommended me?" Your cheeks were a little flushed from her sudden compliments.

She chuckled. She pointed to the tablet, you'd barely even read, "The same pilot you're going to rescue."

Like bitter words on your tongue, you cringed as you came to your own realization. "Poe Dameron."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[1]:** They have spaceships but they don't have sunglasses? I think not. Everyone looks cool as shit when wearing sunglasses so I strongly believe Han Solo was a strong advocate for them. Bye.
> 
> see ya later next time!~~~~


End file.
